


No Light

by maqcy



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Awesome Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, Creepy Alexander Pierce, Creepy Brock Rumlow, Evil Alexander Pierce, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Gods, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Tony, M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Being Tony, Tony Stark Has Issues, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-02-02 09:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12724455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maqcy/pseuds/maqcy
Summary: “You still keep handcuffs in the glove box?” Steve said in the way of a greeting as he climbed in to the car. Frosty barked a laugh, glancing back at the dishevelled man Steve had beside him, before reaching over to the glovebox to flick it open and toss the cuffs into the backseat.The man was surprisingly passive as Steve warily took hold of his wrists and locked his hands together, Steve's gaze lingering on the silver arm.“What have you got yourself into this time, Rogers?” Frosty said as he smoothly pulled out into the flow of traffic.“No idea.” Steve muttered, looking sideways at the blue-eyed man in the backseat beside him.------In an AU where most people have gods somewhere in their family trees, divine interference with the human realm has been falling away and Steve is rare. He's the son of Helios, Greek god of the Sun, and that makes him a reluctant celebrity. Living a quiet life mostly isolated from the other Avengers - children of the gods and goddesses - Steve receives an omen. And when a god points the way, you'd better follow.





	1. Discovery

Steve touched his fingers lightly to the huge, slightly cold sheet of glass that looked out over Anthos. Winter had dulled the sun’s warmth but the vast, glass wall of Steve’s penthouse managed to catch the first of the weak morning light and Steve sipped his coffee looking out over the sluggishly wakening city.

When he’d finished, he stepped away to get dressed in his loose running wear and headed out down the several flights of stairs.

“Morning, Mr Rogers.” Carl, the security guard and porter, greeted Steve as he passed,

“Mornin’” Steve said, tugging up his hood to shadow his face. As son of the sun god, Helios, one of the very few direct descendants of the gods and a greater divinity at that, Steve had been in the spotlight since he was a child, even as he lived quietly.

Outside, it was cold and crisp and pleasantly quiet, even as the flow of people down the pavements was increasing steadily.

Steve broke into a light run and headed out away from the budding crowds towards the riverside. There, he ran for close to an hour, until the river had stopped being the domain of tourists and melted back into the old industrial sector. It wasn’t as attractive here, with all the ramshackle, rusted-metal warehouses that were due for demolition, but it was quiet and the people who did pass, didn’t stare at him.

Steve paused to catch his breath, leaning against a lamppost for a moment, his chest heaving, to look out on the river, the water made dull by the cloud cover. Squinting, Steve was momentarily blinded by a break in the clouds, a golden spill of light that moved away from his face to the pavement at his feet. Steve looked down at it, staring at the spot of gold amongst all the grey as it moved away from him almost purposefully, heading away from the river and spotlighting an alley into the industrial sector.

Steve looked up at the cloud cover – dense and milky – and then back at the light, which was so small and golden in comparison, and he took a hesitant step towards it. The light flickered a step away from him, like the end of a rainbow. Steve stepped forwards again, glancing around to see if anyone else had noticed the light but it seemed he was alone.

“Father?” He muttered, glancing up at the sun, which was just a pale glow through the clouds.

Feeling faintly ridiculous, Steve followed the light into the alley and found that it continued to shift further away from him, leading him forwards. He laughed quietly, shook his head, but continued, like a foolish child in a fairy tale, to follow it.

The light led him down the alley and across a gravel square down another alley. At some point, he started running again, and the light kept up, flickering always ahead of him. He passed a huddled group homeless people and drunks, who watched him pass not because they recognised him, but as if he were just a bird flying over or a stray dog passing through.

Eventually the light stopped and Steve, breathing slightly fast, came to a halt under it, slowly putting his hand under the light and watching it play across his fingers. It beamed steady, constant and not at all natural and Steve glanced up at the sky and the blinding ray cutting through the clouds, before he looked around, wondering why he had been led him here, a crumbling gap between warehouse buildings, of all places.

Then the light flickered slightly, adjusting, and illuminated a storm drain. Steve stared at it for a moment, before casting an incredulous look upwards, towards the sun.

“Seriously?” He muttered. Looking down through the grille, Steve could see nothing but murky blackness, but the light was unwavering and so Steve, glancing around self-consciously, crouched down. There was a faint sound of flowing water but Steve could see nothing, until he shifted and the light beam slipped over his shoulder.

There; a glint of something metallic. Steve cocked his head. It was probably just a candy wrapper or something equally mundane but, looking up at the light once more, he sighed and pushed his sleeves up. Hooking his fingers through the grille, he braced his feet either side of the drain and pulled hard at it. The drain cover was incredibly heavy and half-bolted down, though the fastenings had rusted, and it took Steve several seconds to get it to move. Then, with a creak and the clack of metal, he dragged it up and shoved it aside, grating across the concrete.

There was a faint noise from inside the drain, which looked to be cavernously deep, and Steve froze, listening. The glinting metal seemed to move and Steve stared down at it, and the puddle of light that was shimmering on the cloudy water below.

Steve looked around again, but no-one was around, and, fully aware that this was a terrible idea, he sat down beside the drain and felt around with his feet for a ladder. The rungs were tiny and slippery but they were there and he climbed down carefully, stepping down into the water with a splash that soaked his trainers. Steve grimaced, both at the feeling of wet feet and the smell of the tunnel; earthy and rank.

A small noise from the other side of the tunnel, about two meters in diameter, and Steve stared into the dark, letting his eyes adjust. There was the metallic glint. He came forwards a step and then froze, hearing the low sound of an animal, or a person, breathing.

Staring, Steve saw the metal move, not much but slightly, and a dark mass around it shuddered. Steve backed up, staring, his hand moving to his hip. But he didn’t have the pocket knife he kept in his jeans because he was dressed for running and so he just waited, staring.

The dark shape didn’t move again and Steve stared at it,

“Hello?” He said cautiously. He heard clearly the sound of a breath being taken unevenly and then there was a pair of eyes looking back at him. Human eyes.

“Holy shit.” Steve muttered, frozen in place with his heart juddering furiously. The beam of light that had previously been somewhat illuminating the tunnel, faded away and Steve blinked in the lowered level of darkness, before stepping uneasily towards whatever- whoever it was that was crouched in the dark of a storm drain, sure that this was what he was meant to find.

The steady, rasping sound of breathing hitched when Steve came forwards slowly, reaching out slowly, inch by inch, before his fingers collided with something that was definitely not the wall of the storm drain, but something cloth-covered, damp and slightly warm.

There was a weak growl and then Steve coughed as something hard – a hand, he realised – was driven suddenly into his windpipe and he stumbled backwards, coughing, his eyes wide like a blind owl in the darkness.

More out of instinct than anything, Steve’s arm came up and blocked a blow aimed at the side of his head and he grabbed at the wrists of the person attacking him, startling when one felt icy cold and solid beneath his hand – a metal prosthetic, or some kind of armour. Another animalistic growl and then Steve found himself slammed down on his back in the inch or so of water with someone’s wet bodyweight pressing him down, that icy arm pressing on his chest with unexpected strength.

An attempted grab at his throat was deflected and then Steve snapped his elbow around and hit the person under the chin, so that they audibly choked and stumbled with a splash of water. Following the sound, Steve fumbled around and found their arms, grabbing them firmly and pulling them sharply behind the person. Another growl and a struggle but Steve was already moving towards the ladder, dragging the person with him. His throat was painfully sore from that jab and he was sick of being down here in the wet darkness.

The person thrashed violently against him, kicking out and trying to throw Steve down like he had done previously. But, whoever they were, their breath was heavy and tired and Steve kept a steady foothold, weathering the hits as he found his way back to the ladder rungs, keeping a hold on the person’s wrists.

A knee to Steve’s groin made him cringe and he tensed up for a moment, bearing the pain, but after that, the person all but went limp, seeming exhausted. Under the dim light from outside, Steve saw a glint of eye whites and then he focused on getting them out of there.

But he couldn’t climb the ladder without his hands, and releasing his hold on the person would allow them to take off, or decapacitate him; just because he was stronger and tougher than most didn’t mean he was unaffected by hits to the eyes or throat, and this person seemed entirely capable of handling themselves in a scuffle.

After a moment, Steve made his decision and bent down to grasp the person’s legs, folding them over his shoulder, even as they went rigid with a snarl of indignation and thrashed furiously. Steve kept a tight hold on them and grasped the wet ladder rungs to pull himself up, stilling when the rung creaked under their combined weight. He moved quickly up to the next one and almost hit his head on the rim of the storm drain hole, before awkwardly manoeuvring them both up and out of the dark, filthy drain.

The moment they were in the light, Steve received a knee to the nose and the wet mass on his shoulder almost broke free of his grasp, but for Steve lunging to grab their ankle as they took off, tripping them so they fell hard, only just catching themselves with their hands, the sound of metal clunking against concrete accompanying the fall.

Breathing unevenly, Steve staggered to his feet, his trainers sodden, to grab the person by the shoulders and heave them up, turning them roughly around to face him.

A scraggy head of hair – Steve didn’t know if it was naturally black or just filthy – hid a grimy, pale face with wide, feverish blue eyes and a feral snarl. Steve stared at the man, reflexively stopping a hit that came at him sloppily, only to find that he had his hand around a metal arm, equally filthy but smooth and flexing like a chrome snake.

“Who are you?” Steve said quietly, staring. The blue-eyed man just glared, his lip turned up like a wolf’s. Steve dug his phone out of his pocket whilst keeping a grip on the man’s metal wrist, “Don’t run.” He warned, “I promise I can run faster.” He looked the man over and noticed his shivering, “And I won’t hurt you.”

The man spat in his face and Steve grimaced, dragging his arm over his cheek as he thumbed in the number of his driver. Although he preferred to ride his motorcycle or drive himself, sometimes a social function or a training session with Clint left him too tired, and he’d call Frosty to pick him up, and, right now, he couldn’t run the hour or so back into the centre of Anthos with a feral man in tow.

Frosty picked up on the second ring and told Steve he’d be on his way, without needing to ask where Steve was. His phone would send the location.

“What’s your name?” Steve asked as he pulled the stubborn man towards a road where Frosty could pick them up from. The man didn’t respond, except by growling at him and trying to take him down with a vicious kick to the knee.

Steve, his patience running short, twisted the man’s arm behind his back and shoved him forwards, making the man hiss.

“Co-operate.” He said, asking himself what the hell he was doing. The man didn’t respond other than to glare.

Steve waited awkwardly on the side of the road, knowing what an odd picture they looked, him hiding behind his hood, forcible holding a man half-drowned and encrusted with dirt. They stood in silence, just the slight movement of their breathing, and Steve kept his head down, jaw clenched, as he weathered the glances thrown their way by passers-by. It wasn’t busy but there was a steady flow of cars and it made Steve’s skin crawl.

The man was uncomfortable too, Steve realised, even as he appeared like a vacant stature. He had angled himself so that his metal arm was mostly behind his body and his face was set into a scowl, hidden as it was beneath his bedraggled hair.

Frosty drew up just as it was beginning to rain and Steve wrenched open the door and shoved the man inside ahead of him.

“You still keep handcuffs in the glove box?” Steve said in the way of a greeting as he climbed in. Frosty barked a laugh, glancing back at the dishevelled man, and Steve beside him, before reaching over to the glovebox to flick it open and toss the cuffs into the backseat.

The man from the drain was surprisingly passive as Steve warily took hold of his wrists and locked the man’s hands together, his gaze lingering on the silver arm.

“What have you got yourself into this time, Rogers?” Frosty said as he smoothly pulled out into the flow of traffic.

“No idea.” Steve muttered, wondering if the man could snap the cuffs with that metal arm of his – but he would surely break his flesh wrist if he exerted that kind of force and Steve leaned back to clip in his seatbelt before reaching over to do the same for the man, who sat motionless, tensed up and flinty-eyed like a wild creature.

“Home?” Frosty asked.

“Please.” Steve confirmed, lowering his hood and running a hand through his hair as he considered what the hell he was doing in capturing a metal-armed man. He told himself he just wanted to give the man a shower and a meal before he tried to find out why he had been led to this bizarre man by what he was almost certain had been his father’s light. It had been so long since Steve had been sent an omen that he couldn’t ignore the possibility of one. And, whether it had been his father or not, that light had not been natural.


	2. Iron Man

The man stared at Steve in silence for what felt like a minute or more, before turning to look out the window for the duration of the trip home. Vaguely irritable, his shirt sticking to his back with drain-water, Steve didn’t attempt conversation but let the man stare, winding down his own window to dilute the smell of the man, which was foul.

He didn’t understand why his father, or any god, would direct him to this man, curious metal arm or no, nor whether he’d done the right thing. Steve cast a look over at him now, metal arm currently lying lax in his lap, contained by the cuffs, and noticed how flawlessly expensive the prosthetic looked. He thought that Stark would love the contraption, to delve into it and discover how it all worked so seamlessly, melding together like Minos had touched the man’s very flesh and turned it to silver, or steel, or vibranium at that.

They drew up outside the apartment block, Steve’s glasshouse-rooftop glittering at the top. Steve pulled up his hood and got out of the car.

“Keys to the cuffs, Mr Rogers!” Frosty called after him and Steve lent back inside to take Frosty’s keys.

“Thanks.” He said, “I’ll get them back to you.” He closed the door and paused. When the metal-armed man didn’t appear, Steve moved around the back of the car and tugged open the door on the other side,

“-out now, dude.” Frosty was saying. With Steve stood waiting, the man, sat motionless with his hair shrouding his face looked up, appearing tired and faintly irritated.

“Look, I don’t know who you are,” Steve said, pausing to lower his voice. He told himself that he’d effectively jumped this man and taken him hostage and the least he could do was be even-tempered, “but you’re welcome to come inside and have a shower and a hot meal. And I can take the cuffs off. Alright?” The man was unresponsive. “But you’ve got to get out of the car first.” Steve added.

He took a step backwards when the man, with a grace that starkly contrasted his shambolic appearance, stepped out of the car and Steve moved aside to let him through, though he took hold of the man’s elbow.

“Thanks, Frosty, take care.” Steve said. He was certain that Frosty would say nothing to the press about Steve’s odd travel companion.

“You too, Mr Rogers.” Frosty said and Steve shut the door and strode towards the apartment foyer, nodding to Carl as he passed, who greeted him politely and didn’t look at the man in handcuffs who was walking, if not exactly unwillingly then at least reluctantly beside him. It made Steve wonder, as he stepped into the elevator and tugged the grimy man in after him, just what he could get away with, considering his staff were hired to be discreet.

They reached Steve’s floor quickly and smoothly and Steve led the man out, crossing the narrow, marble-floored hallway and pressing his thumb to the door’s keypad. It slid open and Steve headed inside, the man trailing after him with his wrists held stiffly in front of him, as if he wasn’t quite sure what to do with them. The door shut soundlessly behind them and Steve toed off his wet trainers onto the welcome mat before leading the man over to the bathroom by the elbow. He dug Frosty’s keys out of his pocket and the man’s eyes focused on them. Steve indicated for the man to follow him into the bathroom, the luxury and size of which Steve reassessed in comparison to the dark stranger beside him, though the man himself seemed to have minimal interest in his surroundings.

“I’m sorry about the cuffs.” Steve said awkwardly, taking the man’s wrist somewhat carefully. But the man just stood placidly and Steve frowned at him, key in his hand. “But are you going to attack me again?” He asked. The man narrowed his eyes at Steve, before slowly shaking his head and Steve nodded in acknowledgment, slotting the key into the hand cuffs and releasing him.

“Shower.” Steve said. “Then I’ll make you something to eat.” The man continued to stare at Steve in suspicion-edged confusion. But he merely nodded and, with quick, dexterous movements, undid the three black straps of the jacket covering his front and dropped it on the floor, the garment making an odd clunk as it met the floor. Frowning, Steve crouched down to pick up the foul-smelling piece of clothing – it looked like a sort of hybrid between a black straightjacket and military body armour – and patted it over, finding several hidden knives in the jacket’s sides and a waterlogged gun strapped to the back. Steve extracted it and thumbed open the clip, pocketing the bullets, before putting the weapons aside, perturbed.

“Why didn’t you pull that on me in the drain?” He said aloud, finding, when he looked up, that the man was naked, and that he was watching Steve with his face in a frown. Steve coughed and came quickly to his feet, keeping his eyes strictly above the man’s well-defined chest, that silver arm hanging at his side, very similar in shape and apparent muscle-definition to his flesh arm. The man didn’t look at all like the half-starved vagrant Steve had been expecting, but like a man in his prime. It was doing things to Steve down south that were entirely inappropriate.

“You- eh, should go and shower.” Steve managed. Something flickered over the man’s blank features but he turned on his heel and stepped away into the shower stall without a word. “Use the soap!” Steve said over the sound of the water starting up, glaring down at his treacherous cock which had twitched hopefully at the sight of the man’s back and ass. The stranger certainly had nothing to be embarrassed about there.

But the man’s attitude about his body hadn’t been one of arrogance, or even confidence; it had just been a complete absence of feeling, apathy so deep Steve wasn’t sure what to do in the face of it. Military, Steve wondered, what with that prosthetic and the weapons, but that didn’t even begin to explain what the hell he’d been doing down a storm drain in industrial Anthos, nor did it answer the other thousand questions Steve had.

The sound of the shower continued and Steve moved away, closing the bathroom door quietly before scooping the man’s clothing off the floor, taking the weapons with him, and heading to the laundry room. There was laundry chute collection sent off every other day but there was also a washing machine at the back of the kitchen, in the utility room, and he stuffed the man’s things in there now, setting the gun and knives on the top. Soap powder, a twist of the dial and the machine started up with a rumble. Steve fished his phone out and headed towards his own bedroom, stripping off his socks and jogging pants as he went.

“Rogers?” Stark sounded out of breath and surprised at the other end of the phone. Steve clenched his jaw as he pulled on some jeans.

“Stark,” He said, “I need some information.”

“Ah,” Stark said, his breathing laboured, “I’m currently in the middle of some excellent entertainment-” there were giggles in the background and Steve rolled his eyes, “so how about I call you back-”

“Stark,” Steve said sharply, “It’s urgent. I need you to run a search for someone? He’s a black-haired male with a metal arm around twenty-five. White. Six-foot or so-”

“Wait, wait, hold up,” Stark sounded suddenly interested and Steve paused, “Metal arm?”

“Yes.” Steve said as he awkwardly took off his shirt, balancing the phone on his shoulder as he looked through his drawers for a fresh one.

“Spangles what the hell is this about- not now sweetheart, just a moment, yes you’re very pretty- oh jesus, hold on a sec Stevie,”

“Stark, can you be serious for one goddamn second?”

“Alright, alright.” Steve heard Stark talked to someone else before addressing his computer, “Friday, run a search on Cap’s new BFF.” Steve heard an Irish-accented intoned affirmation. A moment passed, Stark muttering something Steve didn’t hear, and then his voice came back loud and excited, “This man of yours-”

“Have you got a name?” Steve asked,

“Steady there, tiger,” Stark said, “I’m going to have to do safety first and ask whether this guy’s around. He’s dangerous, Rogers.” Steve’s eyebrows climbed.

“Meaning?”

“ _Meaning_ ,” Stark dragged the word out, “that you better tell me every detail of what the fuck’s going on.”

“Language.” Steve muttered. He tossed the phone on the bed, ignoring Stark for a moment in favour of pulling his shirt on. He heard Stark asking whether he was there and picked up the phone again.

“Tell me who he is.” Steve said, when he put the phone back to his ear. Stark cursed colourfully,

“How about you bring him-”

“Stark.”

“Fine,” Stark snapped, “god, I forgot how annoying you are. He’s a killer, a professional and one with a very long list of _dead people_. Look, you know I think you’re a pain in the ass but I still don’t want to see you splattered-”

“I’m fine, Stark.” Steve said. “What-”

“Oh,” Stark cut in, “but it gets better- wait, better or worse?” Stark deliberated, “Worse.” He decided and then paused dramatically, “Friday’s got him down as working for they-who-must-not-be-named-”

“Hydra?” Steve said, freezing, looking over towards where the bathroom was, though he couldn’t see it from here. The information sent a cold frisson through him,

“I was building up to it,” Stark grumbled in his ear, “But yes, your little query is a Hydra killer, though he’s been MIA for a couple of years. Laying low, I guess.”

“I guess.” Steve said absently. Hydra? Why would Helios, his father, point him towards a guy working for Hydra? Was Steve supposed to kill him? He felt sickened at the thought and shoved it away. He was not an executioner. “Have you got a name?” He repeated.

“You’re sounding a little peaky, sweetheart.” Stark muttered, “But there’s more.”

“What, Stark?” Steve said.

“Keep your tight-ass pants on.” Stark huffed, “What I was going to say is that he’s a son of Hades. _Hades_ , Rogers. Is that getting through your thick skull?” Steve was silent, staring at the wall as he processed this.

Son of Hades? Then the man in Steve’s bathroom was a kid of the Triad; Zeus, Hades and Hera, and while that technically didn’t make him as naturally powerful as Steve, Helios’s son, it put him in the top tier of lethalness. And Steve, whatever god-given gifts he had, wasn’t a trained assassin – not these days. Steve ran a hand through his hair and glanced up at the ceiling with an expression of incredulity.

“Steve?” Stark said, sounding far away.

“What’s his name?” Stark huffed,

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” Stark muttered, “No, no, you don’t owe me anything, just doing out of the good of my metallic heart, I’m a saint I swear.” Steve opened his mouth to interrupt, when Stark got to the point, “But yeah,” Steve heard Friday talking in the background, “He’s known as the Winter Soldier, but he’s been matched up with face-recognition with a guy, James Buchanan Barnes – Christ, what a mouthful of a name – from the forties. They reckon he’s a relative, at least.”

“I see.” Steve said, his head churning with all the new information. “Thank you, Stark. Goodbye.”

“Woh!” Steve said loudly, “hold up Rogers!” Steve waited. “What’s this guy to you? Why’re you asking about evil Hydra soldiers all of a sudden?”

“Harmless curiosity.” Steve said and prepared to hang up.

“Steve!” Stark said sharply, “I’m serious, don’t fuck with this guy! Hades’ kids are usual all kinds of messed up. And Hydra? An assassin?” Steve was silent for a moment.

“I’m fine.” He said firmly, “I appreciate your help, Stark. I’ll call you.”

“No you won’t.” Stark muttered sourly. “Sure, fine, see ya, Rogers. Get your spangled ass assassinated, see if I care.” Stark hung up with a click and Steve shoved his phone in his pocket and grabbed a jacket from the side, slinging it on. He could hear that the shower had finished and he picked up a bundle of clothes – the man looked to be a similar size to him – grabbing his shield from the bottom of the wardrobe on an impulse, just so he could have it to hand. The weight of it in his hand was comforting. Barnes, the Winter Soldier, whoever this guy was; Steve didn’t want to be taken unawares again.

Steve stepped slowly through the kitchen, putting his shield down carefully on the side. He didn’t want to set the man off by seeming aggressive, but he did want his shield in grabbing reach. Barnes didn’t seem particularly stable.

The bathroom door opened abruptly and Steve tensed. Barnes emerged, unabashedly naked, coming to a halt when he saw Steve standing there. Steve swallowed and blinked a couple of times, averting his eyes.

“Your clothes, ah,” he cleared his throat, “they’re in the wash. Have these.” He held out the bundle awkwardly and Barnes, after narrowing his eyes briefly, came forwards and took them out of his hand and Steve had to force himself not to take a step backwards. With his wet hair shadowing his face and that icy look in his eyes, Barnes looked every inch the assassin, even if there was also a certain wariness about him.

Barnes didn’t turn his back on Steve as he efficiently put the clothes on. When he was dressed, he stood looking at Steve, waiting. Steve stared back at him, trying to figure Barnes out. And then he noticed it, wondering why the hell he hadn’t seen it earlier: the red star on Barnes’ metal shoulder. He swallowed. Hydra, right.

“Breakfast.” He said stiffly, tearing his eyes away and gesturing for Barnes to sit down at the kitchen bar. “Or is it early lunch? I’m starving, either way.” He attempted a smile but it fell limp. Barnes watched him with a frown that never seemed to leave his face.

“Take a seat.” He said, eying the man. “Eggs?” Barnes didn’t respond, but he did sit down, albeit reluctantly. Steve cooked the eggs in silence, putting a plate down in from of Barnes and taking a seat opposite.

“Well help yourself.” He said, when Barnes didn’t eat. Barnes slowly shook his head,

“Mission report.” He said. Steve froze, staring at Barnes.

“Mission report?” He echoed. Barnes got suddenly to his feet, pushing back the stool so that it grated across the floor. Steve’s eyes darted to his shield, but he forced himself to stay where he was, though he came slowly off his stool to stand.

“Where is Master Pierce?” Barnes said, gravelly. His skin seemed to glow a pale red and Steve inched backwards up a step closer to his shield. Definitely son of Hades, Steve thought.

“Pierce is unavailable.” Steve managed, without a clue who Pierce was. He realised suddenly that Barnes thought Steve was Hydra, that that was why Barnes had stopped fighting him. He didn’t think telling Barnes that he was an Avenger was a good idea, not with the amount of training Barnes seemed to have had. Barnes narrowed his eyes and Steve clenched his hand, trying to think how to bring the situation back to where he wanted it. “I was told to ask you some questions,” Steve said forcefully, hating lying to the man but deciding it was necessary. “So sit down.” In response to Steve’s direct order, Barnes obeyed, glaring at Steve. When Steve gestured for him to do so, he started shovelling the egg into his mouth.

Steve ate his own egg more slowly, watching Barnes and trying to decide what he should say.

“What happened on your mission?” Steve asked, when Barnes had scraped the plate clean. He hadn’t shown any enjoyment, or unenjoyment, in eating, but seemed more like a machine than anything.

It seemed to be the wrong thing to say because Barnes was suddenly back on his feet and glaring at Steve,

“You are not authorised for that information.” He snapped. “Where is Master Pierce?”

“Pierce is coming.” Steve said. Barnes stood stock-still, eying him for several seconds.

“You’re lying.” He said coldly, “Master Pierce will kill you if I am not returned.” Steve glanced over at where his shield was lying and Barnes, frowning, followed his gaze. When he looked back at Steve, his eyes were deadly and Steve knew Barnes had realised who that iconic shield belonged to.

“This doesn’t have to end in a fight.” Steve tried, his hands up. Barnes narrowed his eyes, something weary passing over his face,

“It always ends in a fight.” He said.

Steve lunged for his shield just as Barnes grabbed a knife off the counter and Steve threw up his shield to deflect Barnes’s viciously quick stab. The knife blade snapped under the force and Barnes dropped it, instantly grabbing Steve’s shield with his metal arm and driving his fist into Steve’s abdomen and then his face. Grunting in pain, Steve brought his shield around to thwack into the side of Barnes’s head but Barnes grabbed and twisted it and Steve was forced to follow it, twisting over in the air and losing his shield when Barnes wrenched it off him, driving it forwards once, twice, into Steve’s chest, throwing him backwards.

They paused for a second, facing each other, Steve breathing heavily. Then Barnes hurled Steve’s shield at him and Steve had to jerk sideways to avoid it, startled by the crack of broken wood and china as the shield embedded itself into Steve’s cupboards.

Barnes kept coming at him, relentless, and Steve blocked as best he could, finally getting a solid hit on Barnes’s chest and then kicking out and throwing Barnes backwards several feet, where he collided with the wall with a thud. Steve wrenched his shield out of the splintered wood.

“Hey Rogers, you in there?” Steve heard someone call him from the other side of the front door,

“Don’t come in!” He yelled, just as Barnes launched himself at Steve again, batting away the arm Steve threw up in defence to grab Steve around the neck with his metal arm. Steve thrashed in that hold, choking, before bringing his forearms down hard on Barnes’s elbow, breaking the hold and scrambling backwards.

“Rogers, its Stark, we’re coming in!” Steve couldn’t spare the mental attention to think about Stark or the battering at his door as Barnes came after him and Steve desperately deflected the hits off his shield. Then Barnes kicked out and gave Steve the space to drop down under Barnes’s next punch and drive his shield into the top-back of Barnes’s metal arm, driving a wedge between the joints and splintering it. Barnes cried out in pain or fury and Steve hit him in the face, throwing Barnes backwards.

Barnes was up instantly and running at Steve, but Steve’s front door collapsed and Stark burst in in his red and gold suit with a rush of men in black behind him, and Barnes slid to a stop, glancing between them before taking off towards the utility room at a run.

“No you don’t.” Stark said and shot a blast of light out of his hand, which hit Barnes in the back and floored him. Stark was on Barnes, then, grabbing the man’s arms and twisting them backwards to keep Barnes down. Steve snatched up his shield as Barnes cried out, his face screwed up in obvious agony,

“Tony!” Steve shouted, hitting Stark on the shoulder with his shield, “Enough!”

Stark stilled in his suit, though he kept a merciless grip on Barnes’s arms, holding them at a painful angle up behind the man’s back, Barnes’s face pressed against the floor. His metal arm was sparking and spasming in Stark’s red-metal hand. The suit folded away from Tony’s face then, as Barnes lay panting on the ground and Steve stood to the side, trembling with left-over adrenaline.

“I had him on the ropes, Stark.” Steve said. Tony sent an incredulous glance at him,

“Sure you did.” He said. He turned to the men with guns who had come forwards to circle Barnes.

“They’ll kill you,” Barnes hissed, spitting out a glob of blood, “They’ll kill you all.” Stark scowled.

“Shock him to hell, boys.” He said and, before Steve could react one of the men lifted what looked like a hand-gun with a thumb-sized barrel and shot it at Barnes; a glowing blue disk fastening itself to Barnes’s neck and sending him into spasms, very similar to the tech Nat used.

“Stark!” Steve said, “Don’t kill him!” Stark didn’t spare him a glance but watched Barnes’s shaking, Barnes’s eyes wide and murderous and scared, until he passed out and Stark waved his hand. The man who had shot Barnes with the blue disk took his hand off the trigger of his gun and Barnes stopped shuddering, but lay limp in Stark’s grip.

“Harmless curiosity, was it?” Stark said.

“Relatively.” Steve said, his attention on Barnes’s limp form, dressed in Steve’s clothes and looking small next to Stark’s suit. Stark lifted Barnes up and over one shoulder carelessly and Steve clenched his jaw, “He’s staying here.” Steve said. Stark gave him a flat look,

“You know, sometimes I want to punch you in those perfect teeth. No, he’s not staying here. He’s coming to Stark tower to be contained. Where he won’t be able to _kill_ anyone.” Steve looked away, taking in the damage Barnes had done to his apartment.

“I need to talk to him.” Steve said, walking away to put some shoes on, straightening his hair as he did so. He kept his shield in his hand.

“Steve did you-” Steve saw that Stark was looking down at the man draped over his shoulder, “did you sleep with this guy? He’s wearing your clothes.” Steve stared at him for a second,

“No.” He snapped and strode towards Stark, “Are we going to the tower or not?” Stark looked at him and then turned silently to walk out of the ruined door, jabbing the elevator button. He sent the men in black down the stairs so that it was just the three of the them in the elevator, Barnes dropped unceremoniously on the floor.

“What happened then?” Stark demanded. Steve looked down at Barnes, crumpled at Stark’s feet, and he crouched to pick the unconscious man up.

“What are you doing?” Stark said, as the elevator juddered to a stop, “Don’t you dare run off after I just saved your ass-”

“I’m not.” Steve said. “We’re going to the tower. I’ll answer questions when I get some answers from him.” Stark rolled his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...thoughts?


	3. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony, Steve and Barnes arrive at Stark Tower

They headed back to Stark tower in Stark’s S7, an obnoxiously orange car that Steve hated and Stark adored, revving the engine at every opportunity. When they arrived, Stark impatiently herded Steve upstairs with Barnes draped over Steve’s shoulder.

“I want to have a poke at that arm before he wakes up.” Stark explained, leading the way into his workshop and gesturing for Steve to put Barnes down into a dentist-like chair that Steve hadn’t seen before. Steve eyed Barnes as Stark bustled around, dumping an armful of tools on a nearby table before coming back over to Barnes and leaning over him for a few moments, eliciting a mechanical whirring from the chair. When he stepped away again, there were cuffs around Barnes’ wrists and then his ankles.

“Stark, you’ll panic him.” Steve warned.

Stark didn’t pause in his eager hurrying about, “Friday, run diagnostics on our little pet assassin, will you?” He said to the Irish, mechanical assistant he had that spoke back to him out of the ceiling. She rarely failed to make Steve start.

“Yes sir.” She said.

“Stark.” Steve snapped, glancing warily at Barnes.

“What do you want me to do?” Stark fired back, coming over to flitter around Barnes’ metal arm, the gash below Barnes’ shoulder from Steve’s shield glaringly obvious amongst the perfect silver sleekness of the limb. “He’s dangerous. And your survival instincts are equivalent to a suicidal panda. Which is to say, non-existent.” Stark prodded at the tear in Barnes’ arm and then the voice of Friday started reeling off data and information that Steve couldn’t even begin to follow. Steve irritably crossed his arms as Stark hummed thoughtfully and continued to pick at the frayed edges of Barnes’s injury, picking up a small metal hook and using it to draw out the ends of the wires, making them spark.

Barnes jerked awake with a sudden lurch that made Steve take a step back and Stark withdraw his hand.

Stark recovered first and patted Barnes on the chest harder than was necessary, “Settle back, Manchurian candidate.” Barnes rigidly jerked his limbs once to test the restraints before accepting their presence with odd quickness and zoning in on Stark’s tinkering with his metal arm. Barnes twitched abortively as if to pull his arm away but he couldn’t move it and Stark carried on with his poking, blithely ignoring the blatant fear on Barnes’ face, even as it was buried in the contours of his frown.

“What are you doing?” Barnes said, his voice rough. It had probably been meant to sound forceful, but Steve only heard Barnes’ terror.

“Stark, stop.” Steve ordered. When Stark didn’t immediately do as he said, Steve grabbed Stark’s dominant hand and pulled it away from Barnes. Stark looked at Steve, first startled and then glaring.

His jaw clenched but he took a step back and lifted his free hand up, “Fine.” Stark said, “fine. You chat with Hydra’s pet.” He pulled his hand out of Steve’s grip and put the tool down, Barnes’s eyes following his movements. “I’m going to make coffee, and I’m not offering you any. When I get back, I _am_ looking at that arm.”

Steve glared at Stark’s retreating back before turning back to Barnes and moving away to pull a chair over. He didn’t say anything for several seconds, trying to collect his scrambled thoughts.

“You know who I am?” He said finally. Barnes didn’t reply, looking blankly up at the ceiling. “You’re on record as James Buchanan Barnes; is that right?” Barnes didn’t do anything more than blink and Steve sat back.

“Why aren’t you with Hydra, Barnes?” Steve said, “Why on earth were you in a flood drain? It doesn’t make any sense, not unless you’d been abandoned, or were waiting,” Steve paused, “or you’d run from them.” Barnes’s face turned suddenly cold and Steve studied his expression for the moment it lasted, trying to figure out if the reaction was confirmation or denial, before Barnes settled back into flat apathy. Steve realised he was acting like an interrogator, and that Barnes was resisting with silence like a soldier.

Steve sighed, “What do you want, Barnes?” He said. “You want to go back to Hydra? Or get away? The Avengers can protect you.” Barnes didn’t move except the steady rise and fall of his breath and Steve rubbed his forehead wearily. “You know how I found you?” He said quietly. “My father, Helios,” Steve pressed his lips together and stopped, looking up to realise Barnes was watching him. Steve’s eyes flickered over Barnes’s coldly attractive features before he looked away. “he sent an omen. He led me to your location.” Barnes’s eyes widened fractionally but he didn’t speak and Steve nodded to himself. “I don’t know why he did that.” He said quietly.

He was thinking of his next words when both Steve and Barnes startled at the sound of Stark noisily kicking the door open, carrying two cups of coffee.

Steve cleared his throat and sat back away from Barnes, who had gone stiff before he visibly untensed himself, his eyes going dark and blank. Barnes definitely wasn’t going to say anything with Stark in the room.

Steve pulled his attention away to look at Stark, who pressed a mug into his hands, “Figured your grumpiness was caffeine deprivation,” Stark said, “so drink up. Life without coffee is not worth considering, spangles.” Steve huffed, unconvinced, and pulled a face at the coffee’s bitterness when he did take a sip, putting it down on the side. He thought there might be Stark’s version of a half-apology in there, but he didn’t comment.

“So you discover anything in your little heart-to-heart with our killer?” Stark said, knocking back his coffee like a whisky. Which was probably added in there.

Steve huffed a laugh. “He didn’t speak.”

Stark shrugged, and pulled up a seat beside Barnes, taking up his hook again. Steve watched warily, flicking between Stark’s face, his hand, and Barnes’s flat expression.

“What are you going to do?” Steve asked.

Stark grinned smugly, “What I always do, wonder boy: take it apart and put it back together again.”

Steve frowned but didn’t say anything, moving slowly away to look at the various suit diagrams Stark had pinned up over one of his many workbenches. These ones were mostly focused on the lower legs and thrusters and Steve studied them for several minutes, trying to read Stark’s scrawl and make sense of it all.

Stark muttered to himself and Friday in the background, small clinks of metal on metal accompanying his work.

A grunt made Steve turn around, his gaze catching first on Stark, bent obliviously over Barnes’s metal arm, and then on Barnes, who had his face turned away from Stark and was tight lipped with obvious pain, sweat shining on his skin.

“He’s in pain!” Steve snapped, coming over with quick strides. Barnes's eyes tracked him.

“Is he?” Stark said, surprised, but not with the dismay Steve felt. “How fascinating.”

Steve glared at him and stepped forwards sharply when Stark went to take a scalpel to something within Barnes’s metal arm, “Enough. I didn’t realise he had feeling in it.”

Stark paused but raised his eyebrows at Steve, “He’s Hydra. Remember them?” He said, “This is hydra tech; it’s important to analyse it.”

“Yeah?” Steve snapped. “Well you can either scan it, or he can be anaesthetised but you’re not torturing him. I thought you'd have been more understanding of that.” It was below the belt and Stark’s expression darkened before he stepped back and put his implement down with a click.

“Fine.” He snapped, and then waved his hand at Barnes, “And what the fuck are you going to do with him, then? He’ll die before he’ll tell us anything. He’s useless.”

“No human is useless.” Steve snapped back, looking down at Barnes, who was watching him intently. Steve sagged slightly.

“This is just because he’s pretty.” Stark grumbled, folding his arms. “If he-”

“We're not torturing him!”

Stark glared at him. "He's not innocent, Rogers." He said and Steve clenched his fists. Stark just huffed and walked away to the other side of the workshop, tugging open a fridge Steve hadn’t noticed and taking out what looked like a large needle.

“What is that?” Steve demanded as Stark clipped in some sort of cartridge.

“Tranq,” Stark said, “It’d be mean to keep him all cooped up in a chair when he could have a nice, roomy cell, don’t you think?” He strode over to Barnes, who was rigid, wide eyes flashing as he tugged on his restraints again, his metal arm sparking and making him grimace.

“Stark…” Steve said, uneasily, “do you even know how to do that?”

“Chill,” Stark said, sliding the needle into Barnes’s flesh arm, ignoring the flinch, and pressing down the plunger, “Of course I do. Took some medical classes when I was bored. Only so much you can get from the books. And I’m only a breakable mortal, you know, very little godliness in me, though I know you all struggle to believe it. Doesn’t hurt to- oh look, he’s out. Lovely.” Barnes eyes had flickered over to Steve with something animal in them just before his lids had slid shut and he’d fallen limp. Steve swallowed, forcing down his nausea.

“How long’s that gonna work for?” Steve asked, still staring at Barnes’s unconscious face.

Stark shrugged, heading straight back to tinkering with Barnes’s arm. “Who knows, with you god-spawn,” Steve narrowed his eyes. That term had been deeply derogatory when he was young, but the other Avengers had concurred that it was mostly accepted nowadays, even if Stark used it obnoxiously. “Your metabolisms are all over the place.”

“If he starts waking, you _stop_ , you understand?” Steve ordered.

A muscle twitched in Stark’s jaw, though he didn’t spare Steve a glance. “You don’t give me orders, Cap.” He said. “This is called a favour, especially since I gave up some supremely high-quality entertainment to come save your ass.” Steve glared at him and only barely restrained his temper.

“Sir?” Friday said and Steve started. Damn that woman-machine-assistant-thing.

“Fire ahead.” Stark muttered. He pulled more wiring out of Barnes’s arm and it sparked. Barnes’s face remained still, though, so Steve kept his mouth shut.

“I’m seeing what looks like a tracker in his right leg. It’s buried right down beside his artery.”

“What about remote deactivation?” Stark said.

“Not working at the moment.” Friday said. “I’m trying but I don’t want to alert Hydra. Physical removal would be preferable, but the surgery would be difficult.”

“Gotcha.” Stark said. “Rogers, call Bruce.” 

Steve shot him a doubtful look. Bruce plus a Hydra assassin didn't seem an ideal combination, but Bruce's control seemed improved these days and he walked away to oblige.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! It's been ages! And the *mess* that is Infinity War came out! And I am ignoring it!  
> This update was prompted by an absolutely delightful commenter and I hope it is enjoyed!   
> However, although I've been writing plenty on other fics (none of which are currently on AO3 because I am a wreck of a human that cannot finish things), this update is only material I wrote a while back and I fear this fic will be condemned to languishing in obscurity unless i'm hit with the equivalent of a lighting-bolt of inspiration. Perhaps IW2 will inspire me, perhaps not.  
> So don't get your hopes up. And i'm sorry. And thanks for reading, I appreciate each of you *immensely*.

**Author's Note:**

> So! *bounces* Do please tell me what you think - the good, the bad and the ugly!! <3


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